just tell me you love me
by thebutterfliesarewilting
Summary: He simply stares at her, and wonders exactly why she loves him so when he couldn't even care less about her. She is a toy to him. "I'm sorry you wish to be a martyr, then," she states coolly.


"Do you believe in love at first sight?" she asks aloud, and he can't help but think she is so foolish to believe in something as trivial as love.

"Of course not. I don't think I believe in love at all," he says dryly and he kisses her hard on the mouth. He starts to quickly unbutton her blouse.

"Except for me, right? You love me," she mumbles; it is a question. He sighs as he kisses her breast.

"Of course," the boy lies. Draco would drop her if she wasn't such a good lay. Luna sighs contently.

/

"The war will be ending soon, and I would hate to see you on the losing side," he states. He doesn't really mean it, not that much anyway, but he thinks it really would be a shame to let such a good whore go to waste because she tried to be brave.

/

"Runaway with me," she proposes, and Draco thinks she is joking, and he laughs. She frowns.

"Are you daft?" he questions far too loudly for the occasion.

She shrugs. "Perhaps," she replies, "but doesn't love make anyone go a little crazy? Come with me, won't you?"

He simply stares at her, and wonders exactly why she loves him so when he couldn't even care less about her. She is a toy to him. "I'm sorry you wish to be a martyr, then," she states cooly.

/

"You shouldn't die for something you don't even support, Draco," she whispers in his ear, her hands around the back of his neck, just after he finished coming inside her, and he hates that she uses these wildly inappropriate times to bring up something that means nothing in the long run.

He rolls off her and huffs for a moment. Then, he quips, "It's lovely I support it, then, isn't it?"

"Do you?" she implores as she tugs her shirt over her.

Draco doesn't have it in him to respond.

/

"Do you love me, honestly?" She's riding him when she kisses him sweetly and asks, and he is not as shocked as he used to be when she would do this to him.

He caresses her face as he answers. "I don't love anyone but myself, darling." It is not true.

She goes tight against him with satisfaction, and her voice is shakey when she says, "Just tell me you love me."

/

"Are you going to fuck me or not?"

"Tell me you love me," she says, and Draco thinks venomously that that is not an answer.

"I'm no liar, darling."

/

"Love is not a victory march; it's a cold and it's a broken hallelujah!" she sings as she brews a potion to grow herbs quicker. He ponders over the fact that she is a lovely singer.

"Why must you only sing Muggle songs?" he asks, but it's not as dark as it would have been months ago.

"Everyday we have magic at our fingertips. They make their own," she replies simply, chopping up a handful of death-caps.

"What in the bloody hell does magic have to do with music?"

"It's the same thing."

/

He starts to understand the fact she is no longer just a fuck buddy anymore and that he longs for her company. Shit shit shit.

/

"I was thinking, darling, that we should go out sometime," he says (asks) awkwardly, with his left hand scratching the back of his neck.

She spins to face him, her teeth shining bright with the porcelain of her skin and golden hair. "Really, Draco? Truly? Oh, can we go dancing, I do love to dance?" She clasps her hands together excitedly.

He tucks a strand of loose hair behind her ear, and then she leans up to kiss him, quick on the lips. (He hates that he leans into it for more.) "Anything for you, darling."

/

They're slow dancing in some low lighting Muggle dive in Scotland to a song that Luna has informed him is by a group called The Five Silks or something along those lines. She's wearing an emerald green dress that goes down to her mid-thigh, with silver chain earrings hanging down past her chin. Her head is resting on his shoulder and he can smell the light fragrance of her honeysuckle perfume. She's right against him, and he can feel every contour of her body; her breasts pressing against his chest, her hips swaying neatly under his palms, her thighs rubbing against his, every rise and fall of her breathing.

"I love you," he whispers against her temple, because he does, he does, oh god, he loves her.

He counts the seconds. One one-thousand, two one-thousand, three one-thous- "I don't believe you," she says with a voice full of doubt. He holds back a groan.

"I do. I do love you. I love you, I love you, I love you," he argues, and four months ago he would have thought himself to be pathetic. Now, he feels an unfamiliar feeling of hope.

She kisses him on the corner of his mouth. "I know you do. I love you, too."

He will never understand her.

/

The war ends, with neither on the losing side. They celebrate with alcohol and sex, like they always have, but it is different. It is fueled with passion built on love and survival and victory instead of passion built on an uneasy foundation of hate and guilt and lies.

It is perfect.

/

The air around them is stagnant, and the heat pushes down on the pair, but neither notices. Draco stands above her as she lays on the grass. "You can't ever leave. I won't let you," he informs her.

She hums an acknowledgment, then stands to tend to her flowers. "Why would I ever want to?" she asks easily.

/

"Let's get married," he says as they are taking a stroll around the grounds of Hogwarts. They are professors now, him a Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, and her a professor of Muggle Studies.

"I'd love to," she replies as she lets go of his hand and twirls easily. "Should I change my name? You could change yours but I think people might find it a bit funny to hear you changed your name to Lovegood."

/

They get married at a flower garden, but Luna refuses to wear flowers in her hair or have a bouquet. "You'll kill them," she had said when he asked about it and when he tried to argue that they are just flowers she replied, "Don't you understand? Of course they are just flowers. But I am just Luna, and you are just Draco, and water is just water. These are miracles, you know. Who are we to take that away from others?" How can he argue with that.

She also refuses to wear shoes, but that is no surprise. He doesn't care, because shoes or no shoes he is getting married and she is beautiful and she loves him and isn't that just bloody fantastic?

Her dress is strapless, and it flows down at her ankles and most would call it nothing more than a sundress, but to Draco she is breathtaking.

Her vows go, "I love you, I love you, I love you." and his are, "It took me so long to know I love you, but I vow to never let you forget it now," and it feels cheesy (because it is), but he is in love, so what does it matter?


End file.
